here we go again
When our second son Clive was just eleven months old, we discovered we were pregnant again.
I had spent the last ten months working my house like a well-oiled machine; Clive kept us all ticking along to a very predictable routine. I had just gotten my cycle back when I realized I was late that next month–I took a test on a whim, in the middle of the night, at my in-laws’ house while we were on vacation. After the test turned positive, I was absolutely unable to get back to sleep. Looking back, I probably should have taken the opportunity to rest, but you never really can when you need to, can you?
Anselm Ioan is twenty-three months old today.
Typing his middle name this morning made me smile. People frequently read that “I” as an “L”, and wondering why we would name a child Loan.
His whole name is difficult, I guess, judging by the number of people that still call him “ans-lum” instead of “ans-elm”. In a way, I guess it’s appropriate for him. Not that he’s difficult, himself, but he is a little unexpected and incredibly unique in our little family. What I mean is that Ephraim takes very much after me, and Clive is his father made over, but Anselm still puzzles us. Who does he look like? Where did that personality come from?
It’s 5:30 when my first alarm goes off, and I hurriedly turn it off and go back to sleep.
About 35 minutes later I wake again, stirred by the sound of Jeremy’s shower. at about 6:13 I get out of bed. I’ve already decided that I’m staying in pajamas today–the prerogative of a thirty-something-weeks-pregnant woman. I also leave the bed unmade because I’m planning on washing EVERYTHING today.
I put on my makeup–even a pajama day calls for makeup–spray some dry shampoo in my hair, and go downstairs to make coffee. I make Jeremy’s in his travel mug as I’m already too behind for us to sit down and drink it together. I make mine, along with some Cream of Wheat, which is my current pregnancy craving.
I sit down with breakfast, a Bible, and the journal I’m using to copy down the Psalms one by one. I’m doing it because I’m terrible at reading the Psalms. I don’t remember to do this everyday, either, but today I do.
I finish the copywork and my breakfast and some brainless internet surfing, then head upstairs. On a whim I decide to curl my hair; I dyed it the day before, and that always makes me want to actually do something to it. I curl it, then put on a blouse and a skirt, even though I’m going nowhere today and just planning on washing EVERYTHING. I wait for the boys to get up. [Read more…]